


The Keeper and The Cavalier

by JustACapybara



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Frenemies to Friends, Good or bad, anyway, ayyy more platonic soulmates kinda deal, reminder comments feed me, there's also a spicy version but that's for the folk that asked for it, they just vibing and Skaarl is there too sometimes, tho it's more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustACapybara/pseuds/JustACapybara
Summary: The Cantankerous Kled finds himself having another normal day. Maiming folk, burning caravans, getting mad at nothing in specific, for reasons that are his own.Until he spots a Demacian flag, waving, moving. Being carried not unlike a standard of war.Deep, deep in Noxian Territory. Lonely. Proud. A challenge? He knows better.
Relationships: Poppy & Kled (League of Legends)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	The Keeper and The Cavalier

Dust blowing, the sun searing, the roads quiet and long since abandoned.

Just as Kled liked it.

Noxian Plains ain't no county for 'em weak, no it ain't! T' was county for Kled.

His Drakalops too, but at this point, they were one and the same. Well, that's what he liked to believe anyway. As much as the idiot lizard loved him, it was also... well, an idiot. And fearful. A Drakalops may be functionally impervious to all damage and downright immortal depending on the sources one visits and trusts, but all that came at a cost. Namely, their offensive abilities.

Sure, a Drakalops was a horse on steroids. Their kick was a thing of legend, their massive claws able to mangle anything in sight. Their scales sharp and uncomfortable to the touch, and due to their unbreakable nature, perfect for shredding any piece of skin in touched... and even mangle and scrape metal. Many were the blades that found themselves split in two once they touched the mighty Skaarl.

However... maybe Kled described Drakalopses... Drakalopsii? Big ol' lizard birds a bit too nicely.

They are like a horse on steroids!

With a stick up their arse and blazing fireworks attached to their ears.

Good luck trying to get a Drakalops to kick rather than running. Or using their razor teeth for anything other than eating the most colorful insects and plants they could find in the thrice-damned desert - which, were usually the most poisonous, which meant getting licked by the damn thing would leave Kled high and dry for hours, if not days depending on how little Skaarl chewed.

All things considered, maybe it wasn't the best mount.

But it was Kled's mount, gosh darn nabbits, and it ain't gonna be the fact it's a god damn pussy that's gon' make Kled turn tail and whimper looking for some wee pony to climb on and have it die in the first second of a battle.

Just talking about it left him angry.

Skaarl was his pet! HIS PET! NO MATTER HOW STUPID OR ANNOYING THE BITCH WAS IT WAS HIS AND HE WAS GOING TO TAKE CARE OF IT UNTIL HE DIED AND THEN SOME 'CUZ HIS BODY AIN'T STAYING IN THE GROUND FOR LONG OR SO MAY WHATEVER GODS AND DEMACIAN PISS-COVERED ANGELS HOLD HIM!

"I's in the mood for blood, Skaarl. Whaddya say?" He spoke, a little more casual, a little more composed. The thought of maybe taking a sip of Puffcap brew passed through his head, but he ignored it. Bein' sabotaged by Ionian magic warlords, he was. Trying to get him all dumb and happy and easy to murder. Shrooms were for shleep. Shrooms shleep.

"SHKREEEE!" The beast responded, its large, lazy eyes darting all over the place, scanning for danger.

"Oh, shush now. You's just mad I got to nibble on 'em femurs last time."

"Graaa. Shkreeeeee."

"Yes yes, I said that last time too but are ya really gon' git all hang'd up in the past? C'mon! Time's dead idiots, and we's got a whole day of people to maim. Day, maim... that, rhymes. Heh. Stupid ionbians. I's a warrior poet a'ight."

"Graaa. Graaaaa."

"You's the fuckin'... GAH, GET GIT!" Kled gave Skaarl the hardest kick he could on the side of the beast, and it started walking. It didn't really feel any pain, but Kled's foot sure was glad it had a relentless mount to stay on top of. Gosh darn thing was built like a wall of bricks covered in rune metal...

So their scrawl across the plains started.

Everyone thought he was just a myth. Most of his life was, actually, a myth. What parts were and weren't however... lost to time. Kled's spiral into xenophobia, insanity and impossibly high national standards left much of his actual conquests dubious to any historian, and the sheer fact he had a Drakalops would be considered an utter joke made by Noxians to seem superior to all other civilizations... if, well, he wasn't mounted on the Gods damned thing!

So it wasn't a surprise that the group of Shuriman travelers didn't pay much attention to the colorful lizard rolling down the side of a rocky hill, or listened to his demands when Kled asked for tribute.

Which was fine for Kled. He was gonna burn the caravan anyway, this just gave him an excuse to be right while doing it!

A pile of charred bodies and howling from their beasts of burden later, and Kled ignored any loot in search of more idiots to murder. Occasionally even finding the remains of some odd fool he killed and left to rot rather than feeding it to Skaarl, or himself!

And so the day went. Hours went by with nothing but the clear blue skies and the insurmountable spite of the sun against anything that dared live in that horrid blister of the world. The occasional wanderer, or group of them that were quickly trampled, shot, executed, or ran down until they were so exhausted the thirst was going to do them in.

Trespassers didn't deserve any respect. The skulls, signs, and lances dotted around the place should've made it very clear that this was Kled's county. The last REAL Bastion of Noxian values.

Maybe he should've put 'em closer to the road, but if you's such a pussy you have to stick to the road, then y'ain't worthy of walking through these lands.

And...

Oh.

"Steady, girl." He tapped Skaarl's head, making the beast stop running, slowly, but surely. "You's seein'?"

A short figure. Carrying a Demacian standard, loud and proud. The deep blue with the silvery coat of arms dancing in the dry wind, defiant to the red, the orange, the sun, and the dust. Their armor reflecting the star's light in a blinding display, shining so bright Kled had to squint to even handle it.

He knew exactly who it was.

Usually, the sign of the Demacian standard was enough to get him into a frenzy. Well, a lot of things did. But Demacia... buncha good for nothin' bird fuckers with their head so far up their ass that they could have mages all over their royal courts but as soon as one popped up away from the families, they were all but hanged publically. Well, sometimes they even were hanged publically, so. Sometimes Kled wishes he knew how to cast spells. But spells were for pussies. Somehow less pussy-ish than the Demacians, but still.

The fact was that someone carried this Standard, alone, proud and oh so brazenly... deep into Noxian territory.

Only one person was foolish enough for that.

He didn't thunder down the hill, he forced Skaarl to take a more careful approach. The blinding light spooked the damn lizard, but a few reassuring pats and the occasional growl of annoyance kept it in check.

She heard him coming from a mile away. As if the beast and its rider had any sort of grace to even hope to deafen their thunderous charge. Those who didn't turn tail were too stupid to notice, or too brash to believe it was but a few raiders - not uncommon in deserted areas of Noxus like these very dry, rocky plains.

If only they knew.

If only she was there to warn them.

He stopped a good few feet away from her. Battleax hanging low, nearly slicing through the rocky, dry terrain below.

She had stopped quite a bit ago, standing in the roaring sun, sweat dripping down her forehead onto her scarf. Thick, long, heavier than usual with all the grains gathered on it, coupled with the water it had absorbed.

"Cousin." He tipped his hat.

She tried to mumble something, but all that came out was a groan, followed by sighing at her failure. She shook her head and looked down into the dirt below. Beads of sweat trailing the dust-coated surface of her face, not unlike the roads that crossed this accursed part of Noxus.

"Meh..." Was all she could muster, in the end.

He looked around. Taking in the scenery.

"Well... I's should've a good lil' hidey hole three... nautical miles that-a-way."

Poppy couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle, before snorting.

"S'no more than... two four six... eh, five somethin' kilometers. Quit laughin'. Last assignment was on a boat to Ionia 'fore I decided to slap sum' snake rattlers here..."

"Shut up and get walking." She wasn't mean. Poppy spoke with a soft, jokey tone, though while usually her words carried the levity of a feather, today they seemed to be chained to the weight of all of Demacia's soil. So... so, so tired. Devoid of life. No, worse.

Dying.

"Yes ma'am." Kled spoke, dismounting from Skaarl and taking its reigns. Even the beast seemed to realize that whatever was going on wasn't time to skree and graaa. It was a stupid animal, not braindead, no matter how many times it tried to prove otherwise to Kled.

The journey to one of his camp was uneventful.

Poppy did not peep. Kled marched to her pace, quiet as the hills and stone-covered dunes. Nothing but the dry sound of steel hitting rock, and the lousy footsteps of the Drakalops. Occasionally, the wind picked up, but the very elements seemed to respect these two, and died down shortly after.

Tumbleweeds took a crack at making the scene a little lighter, to no avail. Even the occasional cacti tried to add some green to the drabness of the desert, the Noxian, and the Demacian, but it was soon left behind.

Nearly ten miles, in complete silence towards each other.

Poppy had noticed the discrepancy in distance traveled. She even thought about raising her voice. But she knew Kled. Too well for her own good.

They kept walking.

The sun was long gone from the middle of the sky, dragging itself towards the horizon now. How many hours had they walked? Poppy's legs were feeling like jelly, but as long as she kept moving, the pain wasn't too horrible to deal with. Momentum, she remembered something or other from Rumble and Heim's lessons.

Kled was dealing surprisingly well. Despite his hips being sore more often than not from riding around all day, putting his boots to work by marching wasn't horrible. It helped he had Skaarl to keep him company.

Poppy wasn't company.

Poppy was...

What was Poppy, to him, truly?

He wa'ain't no poet. Brains? He had 'em, even if the Puffcaps took their toll, as did the years of unbridled war, and getting cooked alive by the sun. But he had 'em. He just couldn't put them to use in this area.

Surely one could find a gosh darn hundred thousilion words to put 'em under. He could think of a few that might fit. Well, one. Rivalry. The friendly sort.

He didn't like putting much thought into it anyway.

They just... started talking, a long, long time ago.

And just kept doing it.

Finally, they saw yellow.

Vibrant, a cloth swinging on the wind, attached to a pike with a not insignificant number of skulls piled on it.

Poppy unfurled her scarf, tossing it over her shoulder. Kled let go of Skaarl's reigns, and yet it kept following him.

The 'banner' that was the grim visage attached to the side of a sloped rock, wide, pointing high towards the sky. Like a finger bone, long, long since buried under the sands and stones.

There was a very sloppily done makeshift camp under it. A rusty iron kettle over ashes that were sitting there for what, months? Years? Decades, even?

Some tattered rags and ancient weapons stuck to the ground made up a few 'tents', just barely enough to protect from the elements... the ones that weren't completely ripped, that is.

Chests and wooden boxes lying around. Rotting vegetables in some. Bottles in others.

All laying in the cool shadow of the rock, protected from the sun at all times except for the morning.

Which explained all the insects and lizards under it.

Poppy shooed most of them away, but decided to catch one particularly fat lizard, about the size of her head, and very pudgy.

Kled was busy kicking up dust to get all the crawlers away from their sitting spots, occasionally stepping on one to thoroughly crush most of its exoskeleton, leaving a somewhat less juicy and sand-covered carcass behind, still struggling for life. Kled would eat them as they were, but he had guests. The ones too mangled or sandy were fed to Skaarl, who chirped and... purred? With affection.

When the dust had - quite literally - settled, one of the tents got broken up and tossed into the ancient, ash-ladened fire pit, and set alight. Their weapons set aside far away from the flame, and Poppy's banner comfortably rested against the wall. Broken pieces of spears and cloth went up in flames, and now they were reaping the rewards of their bountiful 'hunt', treating the game which was now being mercifully snuffed and treated.

Well, at least by Poppy.

Kled just shoved splinters of the wooden shaft that was currently alight inside a bunch of half-dead millipedes and arachnids before calling it a meal. Since he had a guest, he even roasted it a lil' before shoving it down his maw, ignoring any poison the scorpions, fat centipedes and other creepy crawlies he caught may have.

He had already gone through a few scorpions while Poppy was still slicing up fillets of the damn thing she caught, and tossing out organs she didn't want to eat up. Kled was being all polite. She usually wouldn't have bothered, hell, she was starving! If anything the extra meat would've been appreciated. But if he would go so far as to cook something that wasn't raw or currently burning due to his arsonic tendencies, then she could make a nice meal.

Two fillets and four legs were her rewards. Kled was nice enough to go find a full bottle of whatever was lying around in this stash, rolling one over to Poppy, though it got stuck on the rocky terrain, forcing him to have to carry it up to her anyway.

Unsurprisingly, all the heavy bags she wore when traveling great distances like this had all sorts of things... spices and salt included! She was so nice to even sprinkle some on Kled's insects when he vaguely motioned one her direction, before realizing he wanted her to eat it.

She still sprinkled salt and a not-insignificant amount of black pepper all over his meals.

It had been nearly an hour now, of de-boning, filleting, of pursuing bottles and setting up a fire.

In silence. The last words, the dozen or so they traded were... how many hours back, now?

"So." Kled once again started the conversation, prompting Poppy to glare up at him with tired eyes that begged for the silence.

"I knows you's tired, gal. Y' still gotta tell sooner or later why."

"Eehh..." He didn't expect her to even muster up a noise. "Later." Let alone a word.

"Alright. Enjoy your lizard." Skaarl raised its ears, but Kled shrugged it off. "Not you, y'dumb lizard. Gods damned moron." It chirped and backed off.

She would have commented on his manners, but truthfully, she just wanted some quiet peace. The fire crackling and its warmth as the sun danced away from view, painting the Dalamor 'Plains' vivid yellows and oranges, not unlike gold and copper.

Plains.

They both hated that fucking name.

What part of Dalamor was a plain? It wasn't even ugly and drab enough to be called a plain. Winding plateaus twisted and turned into every direction, craters, mesas, hills, and dried up temporary rivers with dead vegetation were all over the place. And yet they called them plains. Neither of them were geography buffs... well, Poppy certainly tried to be. But this still pissed them off greatly. Even Kled's poor grasp at fancy terms like plateaus was put to use when it came to finding other ways to describing it.

"You gon' sleep?"

She looked at the fire for a few seconds.

A few more.

No answer.

"Take your time. Take your time." Kled spoke as softly as his strained vocal cords allowed him to, chewing on his crunchy snacks.

"I'm just so tired." She let out amidst a sigh, words getting blown at the crackling fire. Nearly dropping her leggy loaded stick into the flames. "So... tired..."

"You can drink 'ere. If y' get shit faced no one's gonna judge."

"I know... well..." She put the stick aside and grabbed the unlabeled bottle. Giving it a sniff, before pulling the cork off with her bare teeth. Chugging half the bottle before she had to stop for a breather, spitting part of the deep red liquid down into the sand. "This is some cheap wine."

"Plentiful, too." He nodded to the boxes on boxes upon boxes of bottles.

"Red, plentiful, expendable... reminds me of something." She finished her bottle, throwing it towards the boxes. A scorpion scuttled away from them.

"Y'know, wine really IS the best way to describe us Noxians. Used t' be we were the hottest shit in the pile 'till some fucktarrr... some idiot sunso' bitches went soft and we got stuck with kids that can't tell the sharp end of a sword. Young, plentiful, awful at what's s'posed to do."

That got another chuckle out of Poppy. Even he allowed himself a laugh.

She started taking off her armor. Shoulder plates hit the dust, the leather 'armor' she insisted wasn't a corset, the metal piece that protected her chest while also hiding its size. The padded cloth that was cooking her alive inside...

And her shirt.

Above her hips, only her gloves were on, and just so she didn't have to unnecessarily hurt herself while holding the stick, which was now getting uncomfortably hot despite the protection.

Kled...

Eh, could care less. He had long since ignored any sort of feelings he had for other people, and while Poppy did bring out the saner parts of his mind, sexual desire or romantic attraction weren't front and center. Besides, both were soldiers. More than used to seeing their siblings-at-arms genitalia and breasts. If anything, it had lost its appeal a long, long time ago to both.

"You's gon charr it." Kled tilted his bottle towards Poppy's lizard-leggies, a bit of wine falling on the still flaming cloth and wood.

"That's the intention." She spoke, noticing all four were in fact already pretty black... so she took a bite.

Stick and all.

Kled was in the middle of a sip when he witnessed the event, snuffing a chortle, not quickly enough though. Wine sprayed out of his nose and a few drops through his lips, and after swallowing with some difficulty, he burst laughing. "I-I FORGOT Y'DID THAT!"

"It's not th-that weird. It's just wood." Poppy smiled and looked away.

"Wh-why do you though!? Y'don't see me chewing rocks!"

"Your teeth beg to differ." She waggled her eyebrows, before taking another bite, chewing thoroughly.

"Sorry, missus 'too good for chewin' on yer enemy's armor'." Kled scoffed with a smirk. "Eatin' sticks..."

"Never said I was above that..."

"Oh, then someone took m' advice, I's glad to see."

"I always did it. I don't need some mounted lunatic to tell me how to use my mouth."

"Well then how comes your teeth ain't all falling at the seams, huh?! S'that the expresso?"

"Expression. Ex-pre-ssion."

"Expression. Yeah."

"Heh. Imagine that. Poppy Flowerthorn, Keeper of The Hammer... teacher." She sighed happily. "Well, I guess I've seen worse teachers."

"Good thing you're with a great one. Show don't tell, eh?"

"You sure were doing a lot of talking back there."

"And you were keeping your trap shut. Whuzwus that?"

"... p-pardon?"

"Whuzwhutit."

"Wh..."

"What. Was it."

"Sorry, you... I'm sorry." Poppy scratched the back of her head awkwardly... both scratching the sweaty scalp and in shame that she had to make him repeat himself twice. "I just... you got the news yet?"

"News? Only news I get out here is m' body count. Gets updated daily. Best journal in all o' Runeterra, that one." He pointed his now empty bottle at his battleax, before throwing the bottle as far away as he could towards the dark crevices of their natural refuge, hoping to spook some poor creature that was trying to rest. Thankfully, nothing was there. "I sees ya." He mumbled towards the non-present, or maybe invisible? Menace.

"I... there was... oh, Angels and Heavens, I weep for thee... it makes my head pound just, thinking about it."

He got up. "Try to compose yerself. I'll go grab us a couple more."

"Yeah... yes, sure. That works. Thanks."

A few moments were all she needed to think.

And she always thought this.

How... stupid this whole situation was.

Here she was. Armorless. Deep in Noxian territory. Talking to the fiercest nationalist in all of the land. A crazy, pathetic bastard too dumb to scheme, his unpredictability his greatest asset to the homeland. His violence told of in legend with fear and reverence. His hate for even his own kin, Yordles and Noxians alike, told of in extensive detail in many tomes.

And yet here she was, huh?

Sharing bottles with him.

She didn't know when it started. One day they just... stopped, in the middle of a battle, to sit down. To chill. Poppy could see in his eyes as much as he could see in hers. They needed the rest.

Then came the chatting. Teasing, bitter, taunting.

It... never dwelled much farther than that, honestly, even now.

But it started getting more amicable. The harsh, sharp stings that were each other's comments getting dulled with time. Softening. Iron turned to rubber, turned to a friend's gentle poke.

They started riding together, then walking. When did they first stop to eat together? When did they start shedding armor, when did Kled stop getting so fidgety near her?

It was all fuzzy.

This had been going on for a while, and it all seemed like a fever dream. Maybe, in the end, it was.

Eh.

She was here now. He brought out the worse in her, and made her see what would happen if she indulged in it. Manic obsession of her own country, an addiction to substances so strong they could easily wither what few lights she had burning on her thick skull. What would happen if she stopped caring. What would happen if she just thought that her word was law. It was... so easy to accept that as truth, too. She had the Hammer. She could declare herself the Hero - in fact, her country would cheer her on. How easily this power could be abused. And she wasn't sure she was strong enough to resist the urge.

The mere thoughts she had proved she wasn't worthy, though.

But Kled made those thoughts...

So appealing.

She hated him with a burning ire. But she saw it.

The way he softened near her. The way he let his guard mostly down. The way his gun wasn't cocked all the time near her, his words gentler, more coherent... usually. As coherent as he could be.

She made him a better man, whatever that was worth to someone so far gone as him.

She knew how uneasy that made him. How he tried to make it up with some savagery or other soon after she was gone. Did he also want her to join him, as she wanted to sway him to her more civilized side? Or was he simply lost, confused, adrift?

... not unlike she was.

Not unlike she was at all.

Was she even trying to convert, fix, or... or whatever other synonym to what she was trying to do was. If she was trying to do it, that is.

This whole situation tied a knot on her brain.

But it was always a pleasant situation.

"Pops?" He mumbled, slowly, trying not to bother her.

"Mwuh? Wha?" She snapped out of her deep dive into her own subconscious, the fire dying. "Sorry, I was uh, thinking."

"You's been at that for a hot minute. What's wrong? Honestly?" He asked, throwing the now empty box into the flames, somewhat organizing the bottles beside him.

"A mage by the name of Sylas. He's... ravaging Demacia."

" 'grats on your nation for finally losing its virginity. Noxus had its fair share of times it took it HARD up its fuckin' arse. Ugh. Just don't make 'em like they used to."

Poppy always wanted to ask to when specifically he was referencing. She had a feeling he didn't know and was scared of what might happen once he realizes he doesn't. So she kept her mouth shut.

"So whuz he did? Tore up a town or...?"

"Countryside is in flames. Demacia City is in a civil war between mages and humans. Galio is, understandably, sleeping. Half of the Crownguard family might be mage at this point, who knows. Shyvana's skirting in the shadows, I don't even remember the last time I saw her. And- and," tears were streaming down her face as she kept going, washing away the new layer of dirt that had covered the trails of sweat. "and I don't know what to do. I don't know who to believe, what to do. I-I don't know. I think... I think this may be it. For us. For Orlon's legacy."

"Country above all, all under one nation s' what I always say." He tossed a bottle over to her, and she caught it mid-air. He opened one for himself.

"What... is my country? What is my nation? Wh-what... what happened... where did we go so wrong..."

Kled sighed. "Pops?"

"Yeah?"

"What is your country?"

"I... don't, fully, understand the question."

"Pops. My..." Friend? "... acq... caquo... accomplish... acc... ah, fuck it, my pal. How many kings n' queens ya served under?"

"More than I can count, probably." She smiled, looking away with a hint of pride. The yellows were now purple, tethering on blue. Night had come. So peaceful. So... beautiful.

"They's all fucking dead and dirt today."

"I..." She seemed shook up by how brutal his message was, especially after nearly getting lost in the vista once again. "Y-yeah. What's, your point?"

"Poppy, you's not the brightest star on the sky, and I's somehow dumber than your stupid ass. Y'gotta help me here. Were those kings Demacia? Them fancy dress wearin' ladies, Demacia? What IS Demacia?"

"... protection for the weak. Open arms, welcome to all."

" 'cept mages, 'parrotly."

"Mages aren't people."

"You ain't people?"

"I's people! I-I am. I'm people."

"You's blue."

"I am very blue." She nodded awkwardly, wiping away the tears that were still staining her cheeks.

"Pops, you dumb beautiful brute, you. You prime piece o' beef. Demacia ain't your King's crown, I COULD WIPE MY ARSE WITH 'EM FUCKIN' CROWNS!" He raised his voice so loud it boomed in the empty, quiet desert. "Demacia is 'em folk ya bleed for."

"I bleed for all. Even..."

"Even?"

"Even the ones born wrong."

"Thought they ain't people."

"They're... not? They were born wrong. They needed to be cleansed, as I do."

"Did Orlon think so?" He pointed a finger at her, nearly spilling more of his wine.

Silence.

"Ge... gembu... ginu... it's a real question, Pops. What would the big ol' Savior of The Valleys think of this situation?"

"He'd cry. Like me." She nodded.

"Cry?"

"Weep. Sob."

"Why?"

"Because his... our people. Fighting. Shedding blood."

"Poppy, you's this close to realizin' some real truth 'bout Demacia."

"Am I?"

"Mages are your people. Fuck what your King and his daddy told 'im, and whatever other ancestors believed in that horseshit! Mages, the common farmhand, yer siblings o' war! THEM'S the people ya gotta draw blood for! Nobles are only good for cookin'. Plump, meaty, good diet. Make for good meals, they do."

"... mages are my people." Poppy repeated, hunching forward, elbows resting on her thighs, hands on her forearms.

"I never got why y'all hate the fuckos, either. They's just whackos."

"They are dangerous. Like me. Like..."

"Me."

"Yes. Look at you, Kled. Look at... me. We're forces of nature compared to normal people. We're... should we even exist?"

"Cousin."

"Yeah?"

"Whether we should or not, we's here. You and I. Heart's a-beatin', lungs a-wheezin', hands a-workin'. We may not be born... well, the way we were intended to. Or right, at all. But we's born. We's here. Fix whuz wrong, keep whuz right!"

Poppy was still tearing up, but she smiled. "Yeah. I... Kled, I think... oh Angels, I think you have a point. Mages are my people, as are the normal folk... I'm..."

"You's?"

"I have to find the Hero." She stood - no, SHOT up. "Now. This... time of great strife. This horrible event, this, surely, this is the crucible where The Hero is made clear to me. Mage or not... does it matter? It- It doesn't! It doesn't."

"Woah woah woah, hey now!" Kled got up too, waving his hands around, splashing what little wine remained on his bottle on the floor. Was there ever a time he wasn't taking sips in between talking? Well, when the bottle was empty. Like now.

Tossing the bottle aside, Kled sighed. "Y'ain't just up and going now, are ya? It's late. An' yer tits are out. And, ya just arrived."

"You want me to stay?"

"... you's good company."

She smiled. "Kled. You... I think... I think I finally realized my mistake. After... and thanks to a Noxian - no, thanks to flipping Kled. I'm..." She laughed. It couldn't be the alcohol talking. A few bottles of the wine may have gotten a normal human tipsy and a normal-sized Yordle pretty drunk, but Poppy and Kled?

Sure Kled wasn't exactly tall. He came up to Poppy's neck, and tried to make up for his height in multiple ways. Hat, tall boots. A mount. But his system, like Poppy's was always running at eleven. And when one ate scorpions for snacks and lived off hallucinogenics, alcohol was water.

For Poppy? Poppy had eaten every poison, taken every venom, smoked or drank every drug. Never injected anything due to her distrust of Piltovian needles, but she had ingested the substances. Alongside the needles. So what was alcohol to her if not a pleasant distraction?

They were both talking from the bottom of their hearts here. All the way through.

Neither really knew how to feel.

But Poppy sat back down.

"Gimme another bottle."

"Will do, ma'am."

Another bottle tossed over the flames, corks thrown into the fire, drinking beginning anew.

They tossed words around, nothing too meaningful, Poppy wanted to take her mind out of the revelation and calm herself down a little, Kled just wanted to chill with his one and only friend. Skaarl was more than a friend. It was his pet, his soulmate, the only bond that survived over two thousand years of unbridled war, of uncouth mouths and backhanded compliments. A punching bag made out of the thickest steel. Poppy could snap at him, and they didn't exactly like each other - or each other's view of the world, but they made do. Skaarl? Skaarl was a horrible conversation partner, with all its whacko ideas, but it was the only one he could trust. Even in paranoid and frenzied bursts, it was the chain to reality he needed to not completely fall into an abyss of pure feral savagery.

Truly, they had perfected the bond of rider and beast.

It was cleaning its scales that Poppy finally approached him again after a few moments of silence from their banter. It had to be... well, time was kind of hazy in the plains. Was it midnight? Two hours to midnight? Had the sun just went down for good over the horizon, but the maddeningly confusing geography hid that fact and made it seem like hours had passed since then?

Who knew.

Who cared.

"So uh, Kled."

"Yeah?" He said, patting his mount as he slowly and carefully slid his fingers under each scale, scraping the inside for any bits of shrapnel, dirt or other uncomfortable or somewhat dangerous reminders of previous battles.

"Are you going to sleep?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. I don't think Drakalopses sleep?"

"I don't think Drakalops do much thinkin' either. But, I dunno. Prolly'll keep watch."

"I can keep watch first, if you'd like."

"... Pops, I ain't doubting you, but I know y'ain't gon' wake me up to watch over us. You'll just, leave me sleepin', open for any murderer to just kinda walk up to us and shove a knife in our back."

"Kled."

"Yeah?"

"We're thousands of miles away from even the slightest bit of civilization. And I doubt anything will be able to track you - I mean honestly, like? The dust? The desert? The winding mountains? Who could even hope to begin doing any bit of tracking in this hellish pit?"

"Y'ain't know noxians like I do, gal. We may not have good stock to send to war, but our killers... oh, our killer's good folk. Well, they's horrible folk. Bushwackin' sonso' bitches, can't even yell while doing their dirty business. Just, fuckin', slip some cyclopcide on someone's drink and walk away, or leave a knife in the back. Y'AIN'T SHIT, YOU MORONIC PISS BAGS!" He yelled towards the nothingness, his voice echoing through the winding, twisting paths of the plains.

"... Kled, there is no one out here. I don't care how tenacious you think they are, they won't kill us. Especially not if there's two of us." She smiled. "The Keeper and The chevalier! ¡El Caballero Cascarrabias y la Guardiana del Martillo!" There were stars in the vast cosmos that were her irises. Kled wasn't one particularly gifted in the poetic sense, but it was...

Well, he knew it was special because he couldn't even bullshit something for it.

She held a childish innocence he rarely ever saw. Sure, he saw kids. Killed his fair share of them. Served with his fair share of 'em too. But all that faded in the fires of war. It was tar. Oil, slick, coating every centimeter of their bodies.

Kled was the flame.

And yet... in these odd, rare moments that he and Poppy shared, in these even rarer moments where her excitement overtook her, where something made her golden heart rattle with all the excitement of a snake warning some poor fool that stepped too close, where her little brain fizzled and Demacian dialects fumbled together in a mass that poor Kled could barely comprehend...

Why, maybe his heart did feel something other than anger after all.

And it was admiration...

And regret.

"Y-yeah." He nodded, hands uninterrupted in their search for uncomfortable bits in Skaarl's scales. "Yeah, yeah. Maybe I'll take a nap, sure."

"I promise you from the bottom of this pathetic wretch of a heart I am still burdened by that I will wake you up at the slightest bit of danger."

"... I think I'll believe in ya."

"Good. Well, uhm, goodnight."

"G'nite to you too."

Kled didn't take his armor off, of course. He may have given Poppy trust usually reserved only to Skaarl, but compromises had to be kept. Ready for battle and all that. Even if he reeked of sweat to high hell and back, and the wetness of the armor was... less, than comfortable.

Comfort. Psh.

He pulled a sack of sand from Skaarl's back, a small one, before tossing it onto the ground inside one of the remaining tents. After making sure no burrowing threats were resting inside or under his sleeping spot, he laid down, and looked outside to Poppy, who was looking away.

A part of him made his heart pulse.

Her back was turned away. Neck exposed. Back, too. All bare skin, slick with sweat under the moonlight despite the night's chill. A rushing charge, no knife needed, just his claws and...

Just...

He shook his head, growling, before turning away. Taking off his gloves, and digging his fingers into the cool sand.

Think of Skaarl.

Think of your armor.

Think of...

He had nothing to think of else. The same part that wished to take this very obvious and clear opportunity to kill Poppy also begged for a sip of his hallucinogenics. A hit of puffcap soup and good dreams were guaranteed.

As well as sleepwalking, and a thousand other side effects.

No. He was going to sleep this off.

Normally.

As... normal as 'having a quiet night of sleep' was for Kled.

Sooner or later, it happened, and he was sleeping soundly for the first time in what, decades? Centuries?

He didn't have a GOOD sleep, mind.

But when he woke up, he wasn't clawing at his own throat, opening old scars and nearly drowning in his own blood, or caught himself with his legs and arms aching after having crawled hours away from his original napping spot. He...

Well, he was in his tent.

And on a rock, still watching... nope, snoring. Was Poppy.

"Big fuckin' oaf of a gal..." He grunted. She had draped herself with whatever cloth they had laying around, her clothes left to dry outside, where the sun was now hitting so roughly and with such fierceness, it was honestly a wonder that the soft layers of cotton and her massive shirt didn't just burst in flames. Most of her armor was propped up behind some barrels, thus hiding them from the sun that now managed to creep under the bloody rock, but a few pieces were left out scattered in the sun to cook. He knew just touching them would give him third-degree burns. As if he needed more.

Stomping his own gloves a few times before putting them on again, and digging a poor spider that made its refugee inside one of their thumbs, before dragging himself outside. With a loud huff, he picked up Poppy in a bridal carry, taking her over to his sleeping spot, and softly laying her there, adjusting the piece of cloth she had draped herself with to be more comfortable.

"Now while you's a restin', I better... guhh." He walked away and left Poppy to sleep.

The disturbance got Poppy to wake up pretty soon though... about half an hour later, that is. She got up pretty quickly as well, grunting that Kled apparently had forgotten that she was naked, and the coarse sand that painted her blue skin purple with small, light bruises would be aching for a good few minutes and marked for days... damn things were like broken glass, each and every grain!

And, to her surprise, Kled hadn't noticed her.

Or did he? He was talking.

She decided to actually try and listen.

"...forgot, ya kno'? I don't like admittin' it. But I think I did." He was sat on the sun beside Skaarl, that softly growled with him. Poppy also had no idea if they could understand each other or if Skaarl was just a convenient strawman for Kled to bounce ideas and opinions with. Well, whatever it was, he was happy with the situation.

He had his shirt off, and his back turned to Poppy, grunting, and cursing while talking to Skaarl about how he had forgotten something. The raggedy bandages tossed aside and the perfectly white cotton held up on his hand that he fumbled with gave him some indication. Poppy smiled and walked up to him.

"Kled?"

"WHAFUCKSHITDangnabbits POPPY! Don't, creep up on me!" He had tossed the ball of rolled cotton bandages aside, one arm wrapped around his chest, the other now clutching the handle of his gun.

"Sorry. I, got a bit uh, you know. Comfortable and all. My bad, I-I forget."

"S'fine, ya just... can you give me a hand?" He nodded to the bandages, and Poppy, with a coy smile, agreed.

She was skillful at it. Really, she had a lot of experience, both bandaging wounds and making sure her breasts didn't bounce all over the place when she was training without armor on. Sometimes, even with. So it was no problem to wrap Kled's chest up.

"Thanks, Cousin..." He paused as if trying to say something else. Mouth slightly ajar, looking away in a doubtful stupor. Thinking about whether or not he should say it.

...

"...sister." He finally mumbled, getting up.

"No problem. Brother." Her smile was impossible to contain, as radiant as the hateful skies above, with all the sweetness of a Demacian summer.

He chuckled. "Well, if not by blood, then by war. So, by, blood. Stupid sayings, whoever invented the bloody things must've had a boot lodged so far up their ass they could lick the shit out of it."

"Th... uhm."

"Oh, right. An', Pops, when's ya leavin'?"

"I don't... I... probably later today. When the sun is setting at most. I have... things... to... take care of. Up here." She tapped her head.

"Uh-huh. Them mage stuff, eh?"

Poppy nodded, a grim expression on her face, the smile that was there but moments ago now but an uneasy smirk.

"I getcha, I getcha. Hard to leave all that stuff 'ehind. I means, I ain't done it. But that's 'cuz back when, we actually had something to stand up for besides jacking our cocks off and rubbing our pussies to whoever managed to scheme the hardest. Buncha fools." He hacked up a loogie from the depths of his lungs straight onto the boiling sand, before sighing. "I gotta get dressed up."

"Yeah. I... guess. Maybe I just need... I dunno. I need time to think. Is uh..."

"Mmm?"

"Is this rock climbable? Like... can we...?"

"It's a big ramp. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Heh. I... guess."

"Y' wanna climb it?"

"Why not?"

Kled pointed at the mucus ball he had spat onto the sunny sands. A mere few centimeters of difference between the shadows and the sun made the thing quite literally boil, leaving behind small, dry 'rocks' of snot.

"... oh."

"We can climb it when the sun is going down. We put some drinks on Skaarl and just... go watch, I guess." He shrugged, walking back into the shadow, letting out a soft 'meow' as the cool shade embraced him. "And, Pops," he asked while putting his casual shirt on first, before layering it with the first bit of armor. "Why'd ya don't go now?"

"I mean... honestly, I don't want to deal with any more noxians. You're plenty as is! And uh." She nodded to the Demacian banner. "That, is still a thing I have to bring back."

"It is, ain't it? Big ol' arse rag."

"Kled!"

"Whu? Oh, you can keep hatin' mages all you want but don'tcha forget what I said. Your Demacia is the folk you bleed for. I can only find mine out when we's at war, you... well, I don't cockin' know. Don't go worshipping that flag though. Flags ain't mean nuthin' without the folk that raise 'em."

"Or the ones that make them."

"Eh. I guess."

"Heh. You have a funny way of following the singular piece of good advice you've ever delivered... maybe the only good advice you'll ever deliver, period!"

"Maybe I do. Suits me jus' fine, tho."

"Sure it does." Poppy grinned and started getting dressed.

A few minutes of organizing and piling up every bit of armor later, and Poppy was rummaging through her bags.

Two, three, five, nine canteens, each one fit for about a liter of liquid. Poppy downed a whole canteen, before tossing one to Kled.

"Whuzzit?"

"I had to go through three just to get here. And it was a short walk! Held out hoping you might've had water here but... watered-down wine isn't exactly a sustainable way to live."

"Eh, travelers carry lots o' water 'round these parts. Good for lootin'."

"That's... how many days do you go without water?"

"Eh, there's a few waterin' holes dotted around. I know 'em."

"... do you visit them every three days, at least?"

"Once a week, usually."

"Oh, Angels..."

"Whu?"

"Just, here." Poppy tossed a few more full ones his way, putting the rest away except for one, which she opened. "Fill these when you visit your watering holes. No wonder you're cranky all the time..."

"I's cranky all the time 'cuz my country's in ruins, and Noxus only lives on in ME. An' that one Riven gal. Strong 'un. Real loyal. Real feisty. With good values. I like 'er. Think she'd try to kill me. That'd be a shame."

"Uhm... who?"

"Ah, a gal that deserted in the Iongon... Ionian invasions. Good gal, tho."

"Never thought I'd hear that from you... a deserter, good."

"I's a deserter too. I dun' like routers. Routin' gets your spleen suckled on by Kled. Desertin' gets a round of applause."

"Uhm... o... kay. Uh, drink your water. Try to ration it though."

"Sure."

They both popped their canteens open and started drinking, and generally just hung out until the golden yellows started to paint the ground again.

The sun was low enough now...

It was about time.

"Eh... ey, Pops?"

"Mmm?" The only armor she wore now being pants once again, but this time she also had her shirt on. She asked while rubbing some cleaning oil on her armor, Kled's battleax and gun laying beside her, also being properly treated for the first time in decades. She wasn't even that knowledgeable of guns, and yet she knew it was naught but a miracle the accursed flintlock contraption he carried on his hips fired to begin with, let alone with its barrels so full of black powder and byproduct. And the Ax? Oh, she would actually PAY Kled to take it to the closest smithery and sharpen it right there. He tried to sharpen it with rocks and bones, she was sure. It certainly showed. "What is it?"

"S' prolly cool enough to get up 'ere."

"Oh. So you're saying you want to watch the sunset with a Demacian?" She wagged her eyebrows suggestively, before breaking down into chuckling. "Nah, I'm joking, I'm joking. I mean, I'm game though."

"Exactly what I was suggestin' tho. 'sides, it was your suggestion to begin with."

"Suggestion... that's a big word for you. Nice." The smile she gave him was of genuine encouragement.

"Heh. Well. You's comin'?" He strapped the last few belts to make sure his armor stayed in place, and grabbed Skaarl's reigns.

"Sure thing." Poppy grabbed her Hammer, and followed him all the way around the natural formation, climbing the 'ramp' to nowhere they had sought refuge under.

Indeed, the rock was still warm... not scorching, mind. At the height of the sun during the day, one could quite literally get cooked alive if they stayed there for too long. But now that it was setting, and the great Star's assault diminished, the rock was just warm enough to be... almost comforting.

They climbed up to its very peak, and rested, facing towards the sun.

"I never thought you of all people would appreciate this." She said, unfurling a piece of bread from her bag. It was hard, and didn't exactly look very appetizing. But neither of them were picky eaters. Poppy held it up, and Kled broke it in half, taking a bite.

"S'good bread. I can 'preciate sum good bread."

"N-not the bread." Poppy giggled, before pointing with her chunk towards the sun, which was now inching ever closer to a dune, or maybe another temporary river. Or something else? The Wastelands of Dalamar were something to behold indeed. And confusing!

"The sunset?"

"Yeah. It's... too peaceful? No? O-or do I understand you incorrectly?"

"I mean... wouldn't be my first choice of what to do. But... I dunno, Pops. Ya just.... ya just got a way with makin' things less borin'. Dunno."

Her cheeks turned a dark purple, and she looked away, before taking a bite out of her bread chunk.

"I thinks..." He continued. "I thinks y' just, make things less... fun to kill. Does that make sense? Ya just... yeah." He shrugged, gesturing wildly with his arms as he spoke. "I mean, sure, who don't like cracking an officer's legs and watching them crawl away while you march your mount ever closer to them, yeah? THAT'S fun. But ya just... I dunno. I think back to that and... it don't... it don't feel fresh. Don't feel real fun, no more. Feels like... feels cheap. I dunno. Y'just... gah. I ain't no fuckin' sash twirler, I ain't got a clue how to say this shit. Ya just make murder less good and boring more good. Yeah?"

"That's... well, it's one way of putting... this, I guess." Poppy shrugged, trying to look casual, but she couldn't hide her smile. "You remind me why murder is bad too, so. There's that." She remarked, before laughing.

"Heh. Sometimes... s' justified, and nothing but. But also, sometimes ya just gotta make a point. Yeah?"

"Yeah, I guess." The yellows were once again becoming vibrant lilacs and purples.

Kled clicked his fingers until his Lizard got closer, and got up to pull out a bottle of... orange liquid?

It was a beautiful orange. The kind Poppy only saw come out from the finest imported Piltovian barrels. The kind reserved only for the biggest Demacian balls.

"To our friendship, and to your foolish search. Eh? How's that for a speech." He said, waving the bottle. It was in such good condition she could still read the label. 'House of Kri...' something. The year of being put in a barrel, and the rest of the name of the bottler? The... distillery? Was it so special as to be brewed by a renowned family? Well, whatever the case, she couldn't know.

It may have not been in any sort of 'good' state, honestly, but when compared to unlabeled dusty bottles, the fact it HAD a label was a miracle. It didn't look half bad, either.

He took a deep swig, and handed it over to hers, letting out a satisfied sigh.

"To a kinder, better Noxus." She raised her bottle towards the sun, yelling her words. "And long may the sunshine on every person that walks the earth! Long may we thrive!" Then, she drank. Deep.

"Heh. Dunno about kind. Or thrivin'." He gestured to the wastes below, watching Poppy down half the bottle before giving it to him, wiping away a dribble that had managed to escape her lips and was now coursing down her chin, well, was.

"Whew. That actually tastes good." She smiled. "Noxus may never be kind or thrive... but it can be better than this."

This time, Kled saw it in her face. Composed, stern. Looking straight into the void, half-directed towards the setting sun, now so low they could generally stare at it without being completely blinded. Clutching the bottle.

She spoke again.

"So can Demacia."

"So can Demacia," Kled nodded solemnly to her addition.

"Thanks."

"No problem." He pets her on the back, before sitting. "Sister."

And so the cool purples turned to blues, and darkness fell.

And they sat beneath the stars.


End file.
